Untitled
by bugface
Summary: hc - character death, not what you think.


Disclaimer: Not mine Rating: prbably a PG, there's a bit of swearing i think. Paring: Let's take a wild guess..... Feedback: Definately!!!! Well, its your choice, but its greatly appreciated!!  
  
A/N - Thanks for all the reviews on Reflections, i'm still not sure whether to coninue it or not, so I'll leave it for the mo. This is a stand-alone fic, and i'm not quite sure what to call it, so hey, any suggestions are welcome!!!  
  
Here goes, enjoy...  
  
~*~  
  
Horatio sat heavily in the passenger seat of Calleigh's car. He hadn't allowed his body and mind to rest since the event, and this, Calleigh was certain as she watched him, must have been the first time he had sat down in over twelve hours.  
  
He sighed. One arm flew to his jacket pocket to retrieve his sunglasses, and he hastily placed them on his face, then finally rested his shaking hand on his head, smoothing down his hair. This done, he lay his arm down by his side, angrily, as if it were simply an inconvenience to have arms on his body.  
  
He had spent years trying to overcome the death of his mother, and more years on top of that attempting to solve his brother's murder. And now this had happened.  
  
He swore, softly, hoping that she couldn't hear him.  
  
Calleigh opened the door to the car and sat in the driver's seat, remaining silent. He hated that she knew him so well as to know when to push and when to leave him be.  
  
Yelena might have been his sister-in-law's widow, but he was sure that the feelings he had for her were real. True, nothing would have happened between them – he wouldn't have let it – but it was comforting to know that she had been there. He wondered what might have happened if he had met her first. Maybe things wouldn't have ended like this. It was pathetic.  
  
He ran his restless hands through his hair again.  
  
No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't get the image of Yelena's face from his head – it seemed glued to his eyelids. Her eyes bore a thoughtful expression through his mind, and her skin had been dulled by death; no longer a rich colour, but a gaunt, lifeless thing that didn't do her justice.  
  
He had shouted at Alexx to close her eyes and let her rest. He regretted that.  
  
He also regretted shouting at Speed. It wasn't his fault that the fingerprints on the gun didn't match that of the suspect. He wasn't sure which was worse: being pulled away from the interrogation room having punched the smug-ass grin from the suspects face, or wanting someone to plant evidence that would secure his arrest.  
  
He had watched the suspect walk away due to lack of evidence.  
  
Even Frank Tripp had served to annoy him asking if he was okay every second of the day, and did he want to talk about 'it'? Horatio couldn't bring himself to say 'it'. To say that Yelena was...well, it was unthinkable.  
  
And now, staring, yet unseeing through the windscreen, he hadn't cried. An outsider might see a businessman travelling home after a hard day at work. That was weird. They had no idea.  
  
"Cal?" He asked tentatively, licking his dry lips.  
  
Calleigh looked at him – really looked at him – and saw how much the lack of sleep had affected him. The bags under his eyes were now a deep purple. Despite what he might have told his staff for the past week, he was far from okay.  
  
"I don't think I can be alone right now." His simple admission startled her. She had expected him to say that he wanted to go home, or he wanted to get drunk out of his mind. These things he had said to her often, but he had never admitted his fear of being on her own. Never had he admitted a weakness.  
  
"You'll never have to be alone." She said, trying unsuccessfully to mask the shakiness of her voice.  
  
~*~  
  
Later, Calleigh wished she had said something a little harsher, but she had never been able to deny him anything.  
  
The silence was unnerving – she wasn't used to it.  
  
She was about to break the silence, when she noticed the single tear that had traced a line from his right eye to where it was now dangling precariously on his chin.  
  
"Horatio?" She asked gently, watching quietly as another tear fell from his left eye this time, "Do you want to talk to me?"  
  
His whole body went rigid, and his face went pale, as if he were about to faint. He shook his head firmly as more tears prepared to fall.  
  
"I think I should go..." He stopped as his voice cracked slightly.  
  
In quick, mechanical motions he stood up.  
  
"Horatio," She said again. He placed his glass of water on the table and shook his head again, "Horatio," she said, a little more forcefully this time.  
  
Again, he shook his head and smoothed his tie with shaking hands.  
  
"Horatio," She repeated, "Look at me Horatio."  
  
Slowly, he turned to face her, still staring at the floor, and, slowly, raised his eyes to meet hers.  
  
"Horatio, Yelena is dead." She stated flatly.  
  
It was only then did Horatio let his tears fall. He fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably, no longer caring who was watching. Calleigh was at his side in an instant, wrapping her arms around his torso, trying to lift him onto the couch. He wouldn't move.  
  
She soon gave up trying to stop his tears, simply keeping her arms around his neck, stroking his back, drying his face, smoothing his hair. She melded her body to his, and there they lay, on the floor.  
  
For a long while, nobody said anything, until, after what seemed like hours, he spoke.  
  
"Thank you, Angel."  
  
And Calleigh smiled. 


End file.
